


Vinushka

by sunlight_moonlight



Category: Suspiria (2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, F/F, Fainting, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlight_moonlight/pseuds/sunlight_moonlight
Summary: Olga has a nightmare.
Relationships: 'Blue'/Olga Ivanova, You/Olga Ivanova
Kudos: 3





	Vinushka

Olga’s legs flail out but they can’t go anywhere. She is suffocating, suffocating all over again, her throat tightening up and ribs crushed inward. She makes a desperate sound but cannot open her mouth.  
She tries to move, pushing down against the ground with her arms and legs and wriggling but she just can’t get up. The pain that screams from the center of her body is unreal, her insides aren’t right and her lung is collapsed. She can’t breath. She wants to vomit, but she can imagine the sting of bile in her shattered rib cage, she can see and hear herself trying to cough and retch with a jaw that’s been pulled off its hinges and having nothing come out because her stomach is disconnected from her esophagus. The only thing that drains from her mouth are the fluids that fill up her abdominal cavity, the taste is stale and sour and it fills her sinuses.  
Then her body is forcefully flung into the air again and she groans, barely able to remain conscious anymore, wishing that her brain and heart would just give up; end it, if this was what was happening to her, end everything, please--  
But nothing ends. Her legs move against her will and she hits the mirror again, hits the floor, feels something akin to a punch or a kick in her already brutalized side. There’s a sickening crack and another pained sound exits her mouth. She’s battered, her bones are broken, she can see her left hand over her right shoulder and the whole arm is numb. The limb is dying, she thinks, and she pleads to die too. Nothing exists in this moment except agony.  
She doesn’t die. She ends up on the floor again, laying on her stomach and feeling it burn on the inside, feeling blood and fluid fill her lung, feeling her face throb up into her temples and eyes and not being able to feel her arm. She can’t fight anymore. It wasn’t like she could from the start, but now, there was not even an incentive--her muscles are useless now and she is so, so tired. Her unbroken arm won’t move, either.  
Then, her leg begins to lift into the air, and she can almost predict it when it pushes so far over her back that the hip joint snaps and she can feel the sole of her shoe between her shoulder blades. She’s pulled up and up, mind barely able to register the pain but at the same time feeling it all. Her chest shudders and shakes. She cannot believe she is still breathing. Her back broke at one point, and yet, she could still move her legs.  
She lets the force push her across the floor, sliding like a doll that had been tossed to the ground and forgotten about, until finally, finally everything stops. Not without one more blow to her back, but it does. It is done. The floor is cold and hard and evil comes up through it and she can feel it coming up through the wooden panels to grip her, coating her in their putrefaction. It sinks into her skin. It rots her. She wheezes, that sickening sour filling her mouth again, and she tries to get it out faster but she can’t. She can’t move at all, now. She lays there, entire body having become nothing but a cluster of searing pain on the ground, and she waits…

\--

Olga awoke with a terrible scream, arms flying out as if to fend something off, kicking up the covers with her legs. “No!” she shouted, her body shooting fully up off the bed, swinging her splayed hands in the air. She twisted and writhed until she was off the mattress, falling into the floor with a thud, and then she kicked the side of the bedframe to get away from what, in reality, was nothing. In her mind, though, it had become something very particular: not only her trauma, but now a group of witches crowded around her, bright eyes burning into her, every hand holding a hook that created a dangerous circle above her. Not again, she thought in her panic, not again.  
She pushed herself further and further across the floor, a guttural noise growling out from between her teeth, trying to shake away the pain that seemed to resonate in her limbs and gut. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of footsteps across hardwood and the click of her doorknob being turned. Olga slammed her hand down on the ground, not knowing who or what it was and not caring--’Get away from me!’  
“Olga?!” an alarmed voice asked, and this shook some sense back into her because it was distinctly Liza Jane. Not a witch, not a matron--it was one of her friends. Olga squinted her eyes open, trying to make out the blur of the person before her, still too scared to stop moving away. She pushed away again, her now-open eyes darting around as she tried to register where she was. Wasn’t this her room…?  
Several pairs of feet, some bare and some clad in houseshoes, bounded towards her, and there was one that was quicker than the rest. They seemed to push through someone who appeared to be Marketa, muttering an apology before they knelt down beside Olga and grabbed her shoulders. Olga could not quite see who it was yet and made another sound, jerking back with her arms out. Then, they spoke: “Olga, Olga, it’s me--please, calm down, it’s me!”  
Oh, it was Blue.  
Now Olga was reaching fervently instead of recoiling, and a hand did indeed meet hers that pulled her closer. Olga panted loudly, back heaving as she finally fully woke up. Her room, she was in her room, upstairs. She was alive, not dead. She moaned then, sniffling thickly from tears that she didn’t know she’d been shedding, and found herself on her hands and knees. Blue’s arm came around her back.  
“Olga, what’s wrong?!” Sonia asked from somewhere to the side. Olga could not answer; she was far too strung out to even formulate a response in her head. There was other chatter around her, quiet but heavily concerned, and now more than one hand came to rest upon her body.  
Suddenly, it was like the shock of that trauma that she’d just dreamt about came back to her all at once. She was taken in a vice grip of nausea and she retched, shoulders shaking, like she’d wanted to when she was dying. The other girls moved back from her quickly, along with Blue, the latter taking all of Olga’s hair in her hands and pulling it out of her face. Olga lurched, a string of spit hanging from her mouth, but nothing else came up. Yet, anyway.

She knew that they were there out of worry, but Olga hated that everyone had piled into her room, circled around her and hovering and watching her--she didn’t want anyone to see her right now. She didn’t want all of these people in here, she didn’t want to be spoken to or comforted by anyone but Blue because she was the only one who knew. She was the only one who knew what was ‘wrong’. Olga could not tell the other girls anything, not a single detail of what happened between September of 1977 and now. No one else could know that that was the dream that haunted her mind.  
Olga’s body shuddered heavily as the memories flashed through her mind again, and as Blue let go of her hair, her face twisted into a horrible cringe as she began to sob. Every affected area from her destruction shook weakly, her left arm and right leg, there was a heavy discomfort in the pit of her stomach where she was still addled with nausea. Her face felt tight and weak. She wanted to forget about it, she wanted to forget the images of herself repeated over and over again in that studio all around her in the mirrors, her mutilated face staring back at her and her ruined body. They had taken the body that she knew and lived in and crossed every single line, invaded every part of it and mangled her. Fractured her identity, broken her into a horrible caricature of the human form as she screamed and cried and wept, struggling uselessly against the magic that had come to own her in that moment. And on top of feeling it, she’d had to watch every moment of it.  
Olga’s head began to swim and she felt numb prickles start from her fingertips, stomach clenching up again miserably. She was going to pass out.  
She swayed where she was on the floor, cries suddenly quieting again and Blue immediately took her and pushed her partner down so that her head rested in her lap. This had happened before, to both of them, and so they thankfully both knew what to do. Sharp cold shivers swept over Olga, barely able to hold her eyes open, and the worried chatter around her grew in volume. “Valium,” was the only word she could make out. Blue traced her fingers lovingly and carefully over Olga’s jawline, through her hair. “Poor thing,” Caroline said, “I wish we knew what…”

Olga dipped in and out. She let herself float as she faded, because she could not fight through it anymore. And that was okay, she’d learned. It was torturous and ugly and a horribly pathetic feeling, but sometimes, you just had to let it happen. Better out than in, even if she lay barely conscious on the floor.

“...Olga?” a voice finally said after the blackness dissipated, light and worried. “Olga, come on. Come on, baby. Everyone’s gone.”  
Olga could tell from her tone that Blue had begun to cry as well. Her eyes fluttered open against her heavy, heavy eyelids. Blue’s hands came around her shoulder and under her cheek.  
“Don’t…” Olga muttered, turning her head to look up at Blue, brows knitting together wanly. Blue’s face had twisted up regardless, trying in vain to keep the tears back. Olga shook her head and reached up, feeling her throat get tight again, rubbing her lover’s face clean. “Don’t cry.”  
Blue leaned her head into Olga’s hand and squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments, trying to collect herself, before she took in a wavering breath and asked meekly, “Are you okay to stand? I want to help you back into bed.”  
Olga felt one of Blue’s tears drip down onto her face and it stung almost as badly as the dislocation of her ribs. She sucked in a steely breath and said hoarsely, “I don’t know, but we can try.”  
And so that was what they did. Blue took Olga gently underneath the arms and lifted her into a sitting position to test out her balance first. It was woozy, but it felt alright enough to Olga; her stomach was still on the rocks but she wasn’t so nauseous anymore, her body didn’t feel as assaulted as it did when she first woke up, and she was tired. More tired than she had been in a long time.  
“I’m okay,” Olga told Blue, nodding her head and shutting her eyes. Blue hummed a little and, lifting Olga’s right arm over her shoulders, stood up with her. Olga put her weight against Blue carefully, not wanting to knock her over but not wanting to try her luck either. Things did get woozier as she got up on her feet again but, overall, she could walk. She was just going back to the bed, anyway, thank God. And thank God for Blue, she thought to herself, resting her head on the woman’s shoulder. She squeezed her arm, rubbing it, hoping that she’d calmed back down some. They had been through enough...Olga was sick of nightmares and sick of seeing Blue cry over the torture that they had both faced. Blue responded to this gesture by kissing Olga several times on the side of the head, across her temple and cheek, moving her arm up to stroke her fingers through her hair again. Olga sighed.  
“Thank you,” she said, reopening her eyes and taking a look at her love. The tears had dried successfully, and even though she still looked scared, Blue also had a look of determination on her face. She smiled, just a little bit. It was a look that said, ‘it’s going to be okay’, and she knew Blue believed in those words. Olga smiled back as much as she could manage.  
“I love you, baby,” was Blue’s response as they made their way over to the bed, slowly but surely. “I love you so much. I will always be here for you.”  
“And me, you,” Olga muttered, kissing her back. Blue let Olga sit down on the bed, her hand sliding over her arm as it moved off of her shoulders. Olga sighed again, head hanging low and palms pressed flat into the mattress. She pulled them up, staring down at them, and at first she was unsure of why. Maybe she was trying to ground herself again, or maybe...she was still remembering things. Remembering these hands slamming against the glass of the--

Olga shuddered and shook her head. “Uh, Blue,” she began again, swallowing thickly as she felt the disgust rise back up into her throat, but before she could even get the question out, Blue was already crawling into bed with her. Olga blinked, and then she smiled a bit wider. Blue took her usual spot on the bed, pulling the messy covers back up so that they can be laid under again properly, and smiled back at Olga. Still, it wasn’t a fully happy look, but it was reassuring and Olga appreciated that. They understood each other in silence. Blue tucked Olga in, pressing the top sheet in snugly around her shoulders, smoothing it out over her body, adjusting her pillow. And then she asked, fitting her legs underneath the blanket, “Light on or off?”  
“Off,” was Olga’s answer. It might have seemed bizarre to anyone else, but while Olga had plenty of experience with the darkness, that wasn’t where her terror had begun--that had started in a room full of lights. And so the lamp was flicked off, and immediately Blue snuggled up to Olga’s side, wrapping her arms around her. Olga shut her eyes, leaning her head against Blue’s, feeling her warmth and the warmth of her actions, the love in wrapping the blanket back around her after such an awful nightmare, of holding her hair back when she was about to vomit and holding her head down when she was going to faint. Like this, she felt like the opposite of what the coven had inflicted upon her; she felt like nothing could hurt her ever again.  
Olga, blessedly, fell quickly asleep leaning into the arms of her lover, and this time her mind was empty til morning.


End file.
